


The Procedure on Breaking Protocol

by SirKai



Category: MTMTE - Fandom, More than Meets the Eye - Fandom, The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, MTMTE, Police, cop buddies, idw - Freeform, more then meets the eye, partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirKai/pseuds/SirKai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the war between the autobots and decepticons, law-enforcing officer Prowl takes things a little too far for the sake of the mission, and his partner Chromedome (Tumbler) attempts to reign him in, well outside of his comfort zone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Procedure on Breaking Protocol

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goingloco](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Goingloco).



> Chromedome is known as Tumbler in this fic, as that was his pre-war name (More Than Meets the Eye #14).

“Hold it. Someone just kneeled down to peel something from the bottom of their foot,” Prowl said, optics fixed against the periscopic viewfinder. He zoomed in on the subject with several careful turns of the focusing knob. “Sloppy paint job, chipped around the darker portions. Appears primarily magenta. Four wide, worn tires on his back; alt-mode is most likely some sort of vehicle for natural terrain. Optics are a dim yellow. His left one looks like it’s flickering...”

There was a quick clicking sound that reverberated inside the dark, cramped vehicle.

“So?” Tumbler asked. He sat hunched over the cluttered, outdated console, surrounded by wires, computer hardware, and his senior officer.

“So!?” Prowl’s frame shuddered. He ground the plates in his mouth together. “This man is a potential suspect or lead! You record it!”

“But he’s being captured on video, and you just took a still of him!”

“All potential evidence must be marked and described. And no one-”

“ _And no one is beyond investigation_. Yeah, I got it.”

“Good.”

If Tumbler had a mouth, he’d have mockingly imitated his partner’s protocol recital with an exaggerated expression. He concluded resistance was futile, and let out a trailing sigh as he raised his pale painted hands above the illuminating holo-keyboard. His voice was droning, almost monotone as he read aloud his transcription. “Chipped exterior, faulty left optic, offroad alt-mode, pink coloration-”

“Magenta,” Prowl corrected.

Tumbler scraped at his head crest with his fingers. “Yes. Magenta. Sorry.” He shook his head and fixed the report.

“Almost four percent of on-scene eyewitness reports within the past six years have to lead to incorrect suspect apprehensions due to testimonies not properly detailing the suspect. Just over thirty percent of these false arrests were because of the witnesses not accurately identifying the suspect’s actual color composition.”

Tumbler’s fingers paused just above the keyboard for a few moments after Prowl finished. He tilted his head slightly and then continued typing. “Wow,” he said flatly. “I’m surprised you didn’t specify that it’s actually thirty-point-zero-eight-two percent or something.”

“I’ve found you to be less abrasive when using more relative terminology and measurements.”

Tumbler cocked an eyebrow at the remark. “Oh. Well, thanks. I guess.”

“Besides, it’s thirty-point-zero-seven-zero percent,” Prowl added matter-of-factly with a nod in his partner’s direction.

If it were anyone else, Tumbler might have suspected that Prowl’s head tilt was almost playful.

“Alright, resuming stakeout. Tracking target...” Prowl said, his voice trailing. “Target has successfully peeled questionable object from the bottom of his foot.”

“Mhm.”

Prowl steered the viewfinder slowly to the left. “Target has resumed walking aaaaaand...”

“...”

“Has left line of sight. No other suspicious behavior.”

“Shocking,” Tumbler muttered. He snatched up the brightly lit datapad from the edge of the console and lazily scrolled through the logged entries to check on the other on going stakeouts across the city. The only recordings for the past thirteen cycles were the ones Prowl had ordered.

Tumbler decided to correct any minor spelling or grammatical mistakes before his partner might see. He spoke up as he tapped and dragged across the touch display. “Hey, you’ve been on that viewfinder for at least... seven straight cycles.” The officer impatiently tapped the datapad against his chest plate. “Do you want me to take over?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, sir? You were at the academy stakeout before this shift. Did you even get a chance to recharge?”

“I said I’m fine. I’m perfectly fit for duty, and it’s unbecoming of you to question your superior officer’s field capabilities.” Prowl took his eyes out of the viewfinder to give his subordinate an arched glare. “Remember, _I’m_ the one evaluating _you_.”

“Uh huh...” Tumbler paused for a moment, then leaned back in his creaking seat and stared at his partner.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Prowl ordered. “It’s distracting. And unnerving.”

Optics still wandering between Prowl’s torso and legs, Tumbler tilted his head slightly. “Come to think of it,” he started. “I haven’t seen you move your legs since I got here. Did you,” he paused, scratching at the top of his head. “Did you activate leg dampeners?”

“That’s none of your-”

“-didn’t even know you were _equipped_ with any dampeners-”

“Focus on your job, Tumbler!”

“My job!? You’ve crippled yourself!”

“I made a calculated decision to keep my essential functions operational for the sake of the mission,” Prowl said astutely, his chin slightly raised.

Tumbler was certain it was recited from a field training guide. “Your legs are essential functions!” His hands raised hands were ready to claw at the air. “I’m putting in a relinquishment request and taking you back to my place to recharge. This stakeout is over in two cycles anyway.”

Prowl craned his neck back, jaw hanging open. “That violates protocol! You can’t do that!”

Tumbler was already dialing through his handheld communicator. “You’re welcome to come over here and stop me.”

Half-a-cycle later, just as the sun was peeking over the city’s skyline, a dark-plated officer pulled up next to the van in a polished patrol skydart. His surly face was scraped and stained with age.

“Sorry sir,” apologized Tumbler, slightly lowering his head. “Just a bit of an... on-site injury. Nothing to worry about. I’ll get him taken care of.”

The relinquishment officer glanced at Prowl, whose face was glazed over with a fixed scowl.

“Whatever, Ah got yer damn dart, just git outta my way,” the officer said. He marched past the duo and stomped into the grimy stakeout van.

Tumbler guided the hovering skydart over to his partner. Prowl’s optics widened as he pointed accusingly at the vehicle.

“You expect us _both_ to ride this?” he asked. “Are you aware of how many safety regulations this violates? This vehicle is only designed to accommodate one person!”

“And what about you putting us both in harm’s way by crippling yourself?”

“I made a calculated decision to keep the operation going smoothly!”

“You made yourself look like an idiot is what you did.” Tumbler lifted Prowl up by his hand and guided his limp legs over the back of the skydart, then claimed the seat in front for himself. “You need to be wiser about when to undercut the rules, sir.” He rested one foot against a footpeg, the other against the clutch, and leaned over the windscreen with his hands wrapped around the throttles. “Now with all due respect senior officer, just shut up and hold onto me.”

Prowl grumbled something unintelligible and rested his chest against Tumbler’s plated back, wrapping his arms over his chest.

Leaning forward, Tumbler turned his head back towards the passenger just before he revved on the throttle. “You’re going to have to grip a little tighter than that.”

The engine rumbled and the jets flared a brilliant blue exhaust. The skydart hovered slowly from the roadway and launched the partners into the glittering skyline. Scattered specks traveled across the streets beneath them, barely illuminated by the rising sun. Prowl’s grasp over his partner’s chest tightened as the skydart slickly veered around skyscraper corners and over rooftop ledges. Tumbler was reeling in towards a particularly drab tenement complex with faded blue paint chipped around the crevices of the building’s panels.

“You’re an officer of the law!” Prowl shouted over the whipping air and blaring engine. “You’ve violated at least a half-dozen traffic regulations on the way here!”

Tumbler eased on the throttle and gently coasted the skydart near a bot-sized netted shutter several stories up from the street. He waved his palm at the thin scanner mounted next to the gate. The shutter wrenched open from the bottom, revealing a small, dimly lit storage space. Tumbler carefully guided the hovering skydart into the parking slot and rested it against the scarred floor as the shutter closed behind them.

“Did you even hear me?” Prowl said. “You should be setting an example-”

Tumbler glared at his partner from over his shoulder. “You can lecture me all you want about _setting an example_ if you’re willing to walk up a few flights of stairs on your own.”

Prowl pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes.

Tumbler turned around and lowered his back to his partner. “Now hold onto my shoulders.”

Clutching both of Prowl’s thighs from behind, Tumbler hoisted him onto his back and started towards the stairs. He took slow, labored steps as he carried his partner. By the second flight, Tumbler was grunting with each footfall. The subtle scraping of Prowl’s shoulder-mounted missiles against the ceiling was not helping his disposition.

“Primus you’re heavy,” Tumbler remarked as he rounded the curve for the third flight of stairs. “How many armaments do you need?”

“As many as procedure will allow.”

The duo passed a group of three civilians, all wearing puzzled expressions. One with large yellow optics leaned over to whisper to another sporting a dull blue paint job.

“Police business,” Tumbler said dismissively. His partner greeted them with a still, threatening scowl.

After four sets of stairs, Tumbler stalked down the wide hallway and stopped in front of a door underneath a flickering lamp. He shifted awkwardly to wave his palm in front of the door, and a moment later there was a muffled click as it slid sideways into the wall.

“That door frame is far too small,” Prowl protested.

“No it’s not. Trust me.”

Tumbler started towards it, bending his legs and hunching down as he inched forward through the doorway.

“What, do you have a lot of experience carrying bodies into- Ow! Watch it!”

“Sorry!”

Lurching into the room from the cramped doorframe, Tumbler leaned near the wall and flicked on the light switch with his knee. The overhead lights fluttered several times before brightly revealing the wide hab suite.

Prowl panned his head around the room, peering specifically at the clean crevices and nooks between the two-tone floor plating. The suite was mostly empty aside from the built in television screen and the luminescent and intricate pictures mounted to each wall. “You have x-rays of Cybertronian brains decorating your hab suite?” Prowl asked. “I was only joking about your history of transporting bodies...”

Tumbler paused to admire the one across from the television. “The brain is a fascinating piece of biology, Prowl. Ours’ operates so vastly different from any documented alien species-”

“Wait, this is...” Prowl slowly reached out towards the x-ray. The ends of his fingers slowly trailed the underlined name at the top of the picture. “Sentinel Prime’s brain? Where did you get this?”

“It was part of my mnemonology studies,” Tumbler said. “We were exploring the currents and discharge in highly disciplined individuals, and how altering those elements of a brain can influence behavior.”

“Like mind control? You studied whether or not Sentinel Prime is _brainwashed?_ ”

“Some of us thought so.”

“Ridiculous.”

“The theory was a little far-fetched for my tastes too.” Tumbler stepped through the doorway at the other end of the suite, once again flicking on the lights with his knee.

“...your recharge slab is sunset orange and olive drab?” Prowl asked. He cocked a brow at the striped slab in the corner near the window.

“I never figured you to have the optics for interior design, sir.”

“I definitely do not, but that is _hideous_.”

“Shut up, it came with the suite.”

Tumbler marched to the recharge slab and gently offloaded his partner onto it and shifted his legs straight.

“Finally,” Tumbler sighed, then stretched out his arms and back. “I’ll put the notice in that you’re taking tomorrow off.”

“You can’t do that!”

Tumbler spun around at him from the doorway. Prowl was scraping his fingers along the side of the recharge slab.

“We have a job to do! _I_ have a job to do!”

“Sir, our unit is filled with capable officers that can handle tomorrow’s stakeout-”

“You expect me to just dump my responsibility onto someone else? To take a day off? What am I supposed to do?” Prowl’s arching brow sagged, softening his glare and leaving his mouth hung open slightly.

Glancing at his feet for moment, Tumbler shot his gaze back up at his partner and hovered his hand over the light switch. “We’ll figure that out tomorrow,” he said, before switching off the lights and leaving the room.

**Author's Note:**

> The amazing Tumbler/Prowl pic at the at the fic belongs to the wonderful Loco! http://goingloco.tumblr.com/
> 
> Huge kudos to Veitstanz, StarryDawn, and Deers for being such helpful test audiences, and credit to Deers for the lovely inspiration of Chromedome and Prowl being stuck on the same way-too-small skydart.


End file.
